A cold night in London it was. The winter night's chill so crafty; able to crawl up your spine with haste and make you shudder like a little girl pissin' her pants on the school bus.
This story begins a truly ominous place - inside of a van where someone was getting raped. And that would be Peter Pan's mother, being un-consensually pleased by Peter Pan's father, Picolo. If it makes things sounds better, it was her idea.
It was Picolo's idea to do a whole 8-ball, grab a hooker in the alley and have sex with her...even if she wasn't really 'feelin it' after getting coked out.
Nine months later Peter Pan was born, with a tail. They chopped that off REAL quick.
Picolo never saw his son. Peter's mother, Gloria Pan, ditched him at a rave when he was eleven years old. This is when Peter Pan started developing his insane addiction to crack cocaine; the 'Pixie Dust'. It's also where he first encourted a flying fairy who took literally took him out of this world to start a new life together.
She was the one who introduced him tot he dust, after all.
Peter on the dust flew wearing rags for clothing. Sometimes even jumping people's rooftops trying to spread the pixie dust to anyone who wanted to think 'happy thoughts'. One night he came upon a girl named Wendy. He saw her from outside, and forced the window he opened. She melted in the sight of him at once.
Peter immediately took on an attraction to her. After conversing with her enough for her to feel better about him being in her room, he was interrupted by her cock-block brother John unexpectedly.
"What's all the commotion?" John demanded.
"Nothing, John. Peter here...was just getting ready to fuck me. Is that right, Peter?"
"It was kind of a joke.."
"What?!"
Peter and Wendy laugh, already sharing a unhealthy connection.
"Hey John - I'm gonna take your sister to Neverland and you're not coming. And if you tell anyone, I'll kill your dog."
"But we don't have a dog."
Peter sighs. "Then I'll kill the neighbor's dog and make it look like you did it."
"But that's not fair!" John shouts.
"So is your accent."
Before John can respond, Peter grabs Wendy and they fly out the window in one swift motion.
"Where are we going.." Wendy trails off as they approach the second star off to the right and go straight on til' morning.
"Damn. I forgot to get coffee," Peter notes. "You should see that bitch tink with caffeine in her. She can fly through your mouth and our your colon lickity-split. It's actually how I keep my weight down."
Wendy paid no attention to this. Her eyes were transfixed on a pirate ship Peter was flying towards.
"Peter! Who are those people?"
They flew faster.
The ship was long, grainy and wildly constructive. An interesting-looking man dressed in red with a feathery hat and hook for a hand stood high above his mates in anticipation.
Peter sets himself and Wendy down just before him. Wendy looks around in fear.
"Ah, Peter. So we have a deal after all? Alright, mates! Release the Lilly."
"Releasing the Lilly!"
"What is this Peter.." Wendy manages to say.
"You're new home," Peter declares.
A gang of pirates emerge from below the ship with an Indian broad. She's cut loose and jumps into Peter's hands and covers him with kisses.
Hook steps close to Wendy. "Well now..what is your name, miss?"
"Ugh..my name? My name.."
"Wendy," Peter croaks. "She oughta be able to get you through the winter, huh? When she's not telling stories and cooking supper she can clean your hook. Or whatever."
"Peter..you can't leave me here."
"Ha! Yes I can."
"C'mon..let's go Peter. My Dad is waiting for us. He's got some killer fuckin' weed," Tiger Lilly hints.
And with that, Peter and Lilly fly away.
Leaving Wendy in the hands of pirates on a ship on the bay.
"So - why don't you start with the laundry and then you can fix me my bubbly, dear?"
Wendy faints.
"Ah, shit. SMEE!"
A fat white-beared man emerges from the crowd of pirates.
"Ye-ye-yes, Capt'n?"
"Bring her inside. When she awakes I demand to know what the stock market is like and who in the fuck shot JFK," Hook growls.
"But Capt'n..are you sure she knows these things?"
"Peter said she did. And if she doesn't - we'll get that 'tink' back here. I'm sure Peter would love to join us while we all sing-along, 'C'mon baby light my fire'.."
"Ah, the classic by the windows, sir?"
"No, you idiot! They're called 'The Doors'. Jesus...what kind of idiot would name a band, 'The windows'? You are really fucking stupid, smee..."
THE END (for now)
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